


According to Plan

by Astray



Series: Bentycutio is a thing [2]
Category: Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Author is Not Sorry, M/M, Multi, OT3, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, i am not even kidding, i just love those guys, rated for a very good reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benvolio had an idea to get Mercutio and Tybalt to finally acknowledge each other. Except, now he's second-guessing himself, because everything could go haywire. Well, no need to worry, because the two nemesis actually can come to an agreement once in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon still apply - Italian Mercutio and Benvolio - French Tybalt.

It was the stupidest idea he ever had, and that was saying something. Usually, he used his brain but he half-suspected that his brain decided to quit the moment Mercutio and Tybalt were mentioned in the same sentence. He had warned Tybalt of his plan, as he was the unknown in the equation. Strangely, he took it pretty well. Better than Benvolio expected. And so they were here, this time at Benvolio's house. The place was silent, as the rest of the family was away. He had been careful – while they knew of his relationship with Mercutio, they probably weren't prepared to have a Capulet on top of it all. 

“You sure he'll come?”

Benvolio cast Tybalt a look – the one that meant 'are you seriously asking this dumb question?' But he replied anyway: “He'd come running from Australia. Are you sure?”   
Tybalt did not answer him, kissed him instead. His heart fluttered, worry nagging him. It was risky. Very much so. But he would not lose them, both or either, for not speaking out. Mercutio had been pissed, of course. Until he called him out on the fact that he actually knew how Tybalt smelled. Right then, Mercutio had shut up. And sulked. But he had not tried to wriggle his way out of it, which was saying volumes about where exactly Mercutio stood. And Benvolio would never say it, but he noticed how each would pay more attention to any places the other would have marked. He had waited a while for Mercutio to cool down, but he saw just how he would look for any bruise Tybalt would have left – and Tybalt left more on purpose. He knew it was on purpose because it was going against everything Tybalt had done so far. 

The front door opened and closed. He breathed in. Gods, pray it would work out. Mercutio's steps in the stairs, then in the corridor. The door opened – and Benvolio felt Tybalt tense, and it mirrored Mercutio perfectly. Beautiful, dishevelled Mercutio who stood in the doorway like a child catching on something he shouldn't see. Before he could make a step back, Benvolio rose and embraced him. 

“What...?” 

“Shhh.” He laid a kiss on his lips to prevent Mercutio from speaking. “Had I told you, you'd never have come.” He carded his fingers in his lover's hair, noting how different it felt from Tybalt's. Looking into Mercutio's dark eyes, he said the words – the same words he had said to Tybalt two days ago. Those same words that had been weighing on his mind for a long time. “I love you both. And I would like to have you both. If you are willing.” He could almost feel Mercutio's heart race, his face heating slightly – and it took quite a lot to get that reaction from him. Instantly, hands grasped his hips, and he knew he had said the right words too. Because it was about himself, not about them. It was a truce, temporary, for his sake. A sacrifice of sorts, maybe. He did not smile, did not glance in Tybalt's direction, but he knew he was watching. He felt his stare on his back. 

Mercutio's kiss was hungry, wild – almost painful, in a way that made him moan – and wish he had asked earlier. He was dimly aware that it would turn into a competition between them, but not only did part of him root at the prospect, but the saner part of his mind hoped they would finally see each other too. Against his lips, Mercutio said, “If he is, I have no reason to refuse. I can't refuse you. Ever.” Benvolio saw that he was staring back at Tybalt the entire time. He felt the tension in the room, could almost taste it, and it had the tang of bloodshed. It had to go, and fast. He wrapped his right arm around Mercutio, and beckoned Tybalt with the other. 

He sighed in relief when he finally felt the solid warmth of Tybalt against his back, and his hands on his sides – right above Mercutio's hands. Cold and warm. Then, the low rumble of Tybalt's voice: “What do you want, Benvolio?” Close to his ear, and he had to fight not to lean in. He was hard, painfully so, and pressed flush between them as he was, he learned that he was not alone. If only these two could finally get over the aggression. 

And he told them precisely that, and was rewarded by twin scoffs. He had to laugh. Apparently, neither liked to be mocked – nothing new here, but you'd think they'd be more careful with an audience, but no. Now he was effectively squeezed between them, Mercutio's hard-on pressed against his in a deliciously painful way, and Tybalt's rubbing against his ass. He bit his lips, doing his damnedest not to move. He could not believe that it was happening. Still could not believe it when he closed his down. Could not even when Mercutio kissed the side of his throat and Tybalt mirrored his actions. He knew their touch enough to be able to tell, but the way in which they were synchronized was uncanny. Tybalt nipped at a point near his pulse, licking his skin. Mercutio laid kisses down the juncture of his shoulder, to his collarbone, and Benvolio let his head fall back on Tybalt's shoulder. 

Their hands moved, although Tybalt paused as he went down his stomach – as though he was afraid of going too far. It was wise, but Mercutio was not wise himself, and in retaliation, Benvolio felt hands cupping his ass – he could not possibly not touch Tybalt and the sheer thought blinded him. Cracking his eyes open, he noticed how they looked at each other, intent in their stance. And slowly, as a challenge, Tybalt moved his hands to caress him through his pants and gods- A moan escaped his lips, immediately caught by Mercutio in a kiss that turned breathless when Tybalt did not stop. He could not help himself, his hips moved of their own accord, encouraging Tybalt to keep going because it felt so good – Mercutio's grip on him tightened with each move. However, this was getting uncomfortable – his clothes started to chafe – and he wanted, needed to get rid of anything that got in the way. He struggled to move them long enough to yank his shirt off, and as soon as he was done, he got to work on Mercutio – who stopped him. 

“Don't, love. Let me- let us do that for you, alright?” 

Benvolio nodded – somehow trusting them to behave and not try to kill each other. There was a moment – a floating pause, and Benvolio suddenly feared that he had been deluding himself all along – that it was not real. A flurry of movements, and he stood still in a daze – and only when hands were back on his skin did he realize both Tybalt and Mercutio finally divested themselves of whatever articles of clothing they deemed unnecessary. Tybalt hooked an arm around his waist to bring him back to the bed, and he followed, but not before taking Mercutio's hand in his. A brief look, and the smile he was given reassured him. Mercutio brought his hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, as he sometimes did. Tybalt was sitting on the bed, and rested his head against Benvolio's hip. In other circumstances, he would have commented on the catlike gesture, but Tybalt was looking away. As though to give him and Mercutio some privacy. Because of this, Benvolio was taken aback when Mercutio sat next to Tybalt, and tilted his head to the side. A hand cupping the Capulet heir's face – so gently it was surreal. That Tybalt went with it was even more surprising, but from his spot, Benvolio did not know what passed between them – but something probably did, as Mercutio leant forward to press his lips to Tybalt's. 

Of all the things he had imagined, he never would have thought it would be like this – him watching over them – and at last, they would kiss but not bite, and if Benvolio was totally honest, he was both jealous and aroused at the sight. When Tybalt caught Mercutio's mane to twist his neck backward, he could feel it – he knew just how his hair felt. And when teeth raked against his throat, Benvolio moaned with Mercutio – because that was a touch familiar. Sadly, it brought the image to an end, as his lovers turned to him at the sound. He could only look sheepishly, and indeed, he felt like a lamb thrown to the wolves as they wore matching grins. Feral. 

He was lost – lost in them – he was dimly aware that his back was on the bed, but he did not give it much thought when one of them lifted him up – probably Tybalt, he was the one to manhandle others – while Mercutio removed the rest of his clothes. Cold hands trailed down his thighs – Mercutio, then – before scalding kisses were laid down his stomach – he did his best to stifle a moan. Tybalt kissed him then, prying his mouth open with his tongue and he surrendered – he was theirs. Wholly theirs. Gazing into Tybalt's eyes, he took in the sly, lopsided smile that was a clear incentive to be as vocal as he wanted. He had done it in the past, but right now, Benvolio wondered if that was not a mean for them to make it a contest of who would make him keen the loudest – and he was not even sure there'd be a winner. In fact, he was not sure he wanted there to be a winner. A sudden shift made him lose his balance as Tybalt moved to the head of the bed – he did not need to see him, the dip of the mattress being more than enough. He just kept staring as Mercutio lifted his head to crawl on top of him. It took him an instant to connect the dots but before his brain caught on, Benvolio was effectively trapped between Tybalt's legs and arms – like a cage, a loose, wide cage, from which he could break free but did not want to. Benvolio reached for Tybalt's thighs, feeling heat radiating under the heavy denim of his his jeans. 

He idly wondered if both him and Mercutio knew that they had more in common than not regarding the content of their wardrobe, and was cut off by Mercutio. Mercutio who apparently deemed it the right moment to turn Benvolio into a mess, breathing against his shaft as he was wont to do. Benvolio tensed with anticipation – while Mercutio was probably the best at it, he did not do it very often. Especially if he was going to go about it in a leisurely way. The faintest touch of lips, and he would have shot from the bed, had Tybalt's hands not forced his hips back forcefully. He whined – why was he dealing with them again, knowing they were absolute devils? Hot breath tickled his neck, oddly matching Mercutio's earlier move – the faint nip of teeth enough to make him crave more. They were holding back, that much Benvolio knew – because it was as new for them as it was for him – and he had no idea what they were seeing exactly. All he knew was that if their places were reverted, he would probably be struggling with his self-control. Benvolio turned his head to the side, enough to catch Tybalt's lips in a rough kiss – until Mercutio's tongue on his shaft forced a breathless moan from him. 

The sound drew Tybalt's attention away, Benvolio noticing his dark eyes never leaving the face of Mercutio, who proceeded to lap at him like a blasted cat. His stomach quivered – he needed more, so much more, and he was lost – and the fact that Mercutio was glancing back at Tybalt did not help. Tybalt's own erection was pressed against his ass, and the minute move he made to settle himself better was caught by both. Tybalt hissed, and pushed back against him, apparently involuntarily as he stopped right away. Benvolio hooked his left arm back, around Tybalt's neck, to bring him close as he whispered against his mouth: “Don't stop. I need you...” He trailed off, unsure what to do or say more than this. Mercutio had stopped his ministrations, drawing his attention. He was so gorgeous, his hair already mussed, his lips stained red. He looked slightly out of breath – anticipation clear on his face. Benvolio reached for him with his right hand, cupping his face. “I need you both. Mercutio...”, he turned slightly backward, “Tybalt.” 

Maybe he had wanted it all along but it was slightly scary, the speed with which both men shot out of bed to shed the remainder of their clothes. From his vantage point, Benvolio observed them, as he usually was not in a setting that allowed him the leisure. They were more similar than they probably would like to know, but there was something deeply sensual about Tybalt's hair brushing over his shoulders as he moved, strength evident in his demeanour. Mercutio was more graceful, like a dancer – but weren't fighter and dancer the same? - he took his time, or as much as he was allowing himself. Benvolio did not want to compare them, there was no point. No point in cataloguing each detail. More surprising was how Tybalt's hand ran along Mercutio's arm – Benvolio was apparently forgotten but he did not mind. Right now, the men he loved were vulnerable, assessing each other, and he would rather not move, for fear they'd bolt. Benvolio made no sound, even if it took all his will not to move or say anything as Mercutio and Tybalt circled each other – their mouths inches apart, gauging the distance. There was no aggressiveness in them, just anticipation. Finally, it is was Tybalt who closed the distance, and Benvolio cheered internally as he did. It took an instant for Mercutio to have his arms around Tybalt's shoulders, hands tangled in his mane – and Benvolio recognized the smile on Mercutio's face as a sign that Tybalt probably purred low in appreciation. It was something he would always deny, but he did act catlike on occasions – though less than Mercutio. When Tybalt gripped Mercutio's hips, Benvolio felt it too, a phantom touch. 

He must have made a sound, because next thing he knew, they were on him again, and he could not help but cry out under the assault. Devils with angels' faces, both of them. Tybalt's kiss was rough, and almost broken by a sharp breath. Leaning back, Benvolio saw that Mercutio was kissing Tybalt's shoulder, possibly after a bite, as he tended to do. Tybalt did not say anything, did not tell Mercutio to stop – instead he leaned into the touch. Benvolio rose on his elbows to kiss Tybalt's throat, teeth grazing his skin, over his pulse. He was going insane. He was burning up, and Tybalt's skin felt hot too – so unlike the usual coolness of Mercutio. If he had had plans about the proceeding, he forewent them – he did not really care anymore. Pushing himself upright, he slid his left arm around Tybalt, trying not to pull his hair in the process. With the other, he caught Mercutio's shoulder, and he probably should not have because it nearly sent them toppling over. But both his lovers apparently braced themselves, and held up. Mercutio's breath against his ear, the minute shift he made – now Tybalt was almost straddling Benvolio. Mercutio was on the side, though pressed flush against them, and his hands were the only part of him that was cold. Benvolio could have missed the whispered name, but caught on it, out of habit. Had he not heard Mercutio, he would have noticed his hand trailing down his side to knead his ass. The touch made him hiss – not really out of pain, but he anticipated it. 

“I want you, Ben.” 

Not trusting his voice, he kissed Mercutio as hard as he could, momentarily letting go of all self-consciousness. Only then did he reply – he wanted, needed them both. And he made it very clear how he wanted it. 

“It would hurt, Benvolio. We can't do that.” And God created the master cockblocker of all times, Tybalt Capulet. “We can't hurt you.”   
And there was so much more hanging behind the statement that Benvolio could not miss it. He looked to the side, right in Mercutio's face and, maybe he should not have been surprised. Mercutio was looking at Tybalt with a mix of disbelief and lust, it was almost painful to watch. 

“In other circumstances, I would have volunteered but-”

“But it's not about you. Or me,” said Tybalt, effectively cutting short any protest. Smiling, Benvolio kissed him gently, mouthing his thanks against his lips. He could almost hear Mercutio pout. But it did not solve the problem. 

“I can't believe we are having this conversation,” sighed Mercutio.

“You are not having a conversation, you are just puffing air, della Scala.”

“I wish I could say I love you...”  
It was so absurd, Benvolio burst out laughing. At least it seemed to bring them back on track. He voiced his idea, but immediately noticed it could be even better. After all, it had been a while since he had spent quality time with Mercutio, and maybe, it would be a way to finally force these idiots to deal with their mess. Of course, Tybalt made a face, which did not go unnoticed. 

“No worries, Tybalt. No one's asking you to bottom, at least not now.” The possibility of a repeat was just left there, and went basically unnoticed. Benvolio let himself flop backward on the bed – they would move on their own time, and he was curious how they would settle it. He had an idea, already... He put on his best come-hither look, and waited. He did not have to wait long. Mercutio slid a hand on Tybalt's chest, nimble fingers trailing patterns, and dipping lower. They were glorious, and Benvolio felt that it would be even better in broad daylight, with light burning their hair and skin. A careful observer, he did not miss the faint blush that tinged Tybalt's cheeks as Mercutio whispered god-knows-what to his ear. As he added something, a bit louder, Benvolio knew it was for his benefit. “Believe me, whatever you can dish out, I can take.” He groaned. Trust Mercutio to be a hopeless braggart. Tybalt's answer was unheard but it was apparently enough to send Mercutio in a flurry of movement. With one lover occupied, the other bent over him, his handsome features framed by his hair. 

He had to ask what Mercutio said, though. And the answer did not disappoint. “If you agree, he'll have you. It's a compromise.” _A compromise because we can't risk taking you together, but it'll be good I promise._ Tybalt was always more concise than anyone else. And Benvolio was a little breathless – he simply nodded. 

“Of course I do. Is it okay?” Even if Tybalt said nothing, the way he looked away was enough of a tell-tale sign. 

“Hey the lovebirds, you don't mind me doing all the work now, do you?”  
There, on the far end of the bed, was Mercutio, kneeling. The bottle of lube carelessly thrown halfway between them. He did not look away as he reached behind him, and Benvolio forgot to breath. Usually, Mercutio let him take care of any foreplay, but probably he had an agenda. Either way, there was something terribly enthralling at the sight of Mercutio preparing himself – his mouth reddened and slack, breathing coming in short gasps. How beautiful he was, his legs set apart to keep his balance, his entire body exposed with an absolute shamelessness. A moan was heard, and Benvolio could not tell who made the noise. Not when Mercutio's free hand moved to stroke his shaft lazily. His attention otherwise focused, Benvolio did not see Tybalt move until his legs were coaxed apart. He cooperated, rather absently, until kisses were pressed to his inner thighs. Tybalt's lips set him on fire – but he knew better. It was simply a diversion, but even so, he welcomed it. He tried to relax when he felt cool, slick fingers circling his entrance – and after the initial burn of the intrusion, he simply went along with it. Memories flooded his mind – memories and fantasies, all wrapped together into a mess he could not quite make out. He heard Mercutio hiss, and he was not certain was caused it. Tybalt nipped at his hipbone – close, so close, but he would not beg. Not yet. 

“Ben.” Tybalt calling him – he opened his eyes minutely to notice Tybalt was now closer to him – they could almost kiss. “Look at him, Ben – how badly he wants you.”

Okay, did he miss the part where Tybalt started to speak like Mercutio? Or was it a ploy to wreck him faster? But he did look, and gods did Mercutio seem wrecked. His eyes were half-lidded but he apparently was still focused on them, if the whine that escaped him was to be believed. Tybalt kissed him, rough and needy, and he could feel the tension coiling at the pit of his stomach and it would not do. A last glance in Tybalt's dark eyes, and he extended his hand to Mercutio, who sprang into motion, nearly knocking Tybalt from his spot. They did not need words as they moved around, Tybalt gathering extra lube to slick Mercutio's shaft and his own with it, the move oddly mesmerizing. As mesmerizing as the sight of Mercutio biting his bottom lip, fingers curled into fists. 

Benvolio laid there, momentarily passive, even as he slowly spread his legs to allow better access, eyes riveted to Mercutio's face. His handsome features twisted as he refrained from being too rough. It was not enough though, and Benvolio was nearly overcome by the sheer feeling of completion, of being filled. Nevermind the rest, it was burning and glorious, and maybe the pain brought out the throb of his heartbeat but it was alright because it was Mercutio. Mercutio who was snapping at a rather transfixed Tybalt. Mercutio smiled at him, his smile only faltering an instant as he tensed. Benvolio had known Mercutio long enough that he probably did not prepare as much as he should have – because pain was part of it. He said nothing when his lover bent his head to rest it on his shoulder. Instead, Benvolio exchanged a look with Tybalt. Tybalt who was obviously grappling for control, whatever control he could get. Without even glancing down, Benvolio knew he had a death-grip on Mercutio's hips – because it was something Tybalt did, and maybe he was also digging his nails into the skin, as Mercutio sobbed against his collarbone. 

When Tybalt leaned forward, Benvolio felt it too – Mercutio let go, following each move. It was strange, as though Mercutio was there and not entirely, caught between them. Benvolio caught the sheets with one hand, more to ground himself, reassure his senses that he was not dreaming, and entangled his free hand in Mercutio's mane, pulling his head back. It seemed like the right thing to do, as Tybalt proceeded to lay waste to their lover's neck, teeth showing at times, right before Mercutio began to pant. He looked so helpless, though it was not entirely true. When he would fall back to himself, Benvolio was in for some payback. A particularly sharp roll of Mercutio's hips made him arch his back. That idiot had a grin plastered on his face, and clearly was proud of himself. Benvolio was still coherent enough to repay him with a rather vicious move of his own – he knew all too well how weak Mercutio was. A hiss answered him, and he repeated the movement – the strain of clenching around his lover usually prevented him from trying too often. Though he was rewarded by Mercutio finally doing his job correctly. Benvolio threw his head back on the mattress when Tybalt's hand sneaked around Mercutio to curl around his shaft, feather-light strokes that made him writhe and beg for more. Shame had no place, and maybe Mercutio would not let him live it down later, but at the moment, it did not matter. 

Relief washed over him when Tybalt stopped teasing, and set their pace, forcing Mercutio into a counterpoint that should be exhausting. It built, until it grew almost punishing, and Benvolio had trouble keeping his mind working. Mercutio was kissing him, like a drowning man would try to breath, and maybe he stopped breathing altogether. Their movements grew erratic, and Benvolio reached around Mercutio's shoulders, grappling for balance, trying his damnedest to meet his thrusts halfway. Tybalt's hand on him tightened, almost painfully, and he could not even warn them as his climax hit him. He came with a wordless cry, too far gone to even speak their names. As he fell back from his high, then he whispered their names like a mantra, until Mercutio was kissing him again, and it was almost painful, he was too sensitive, but he did not mind – not when he came with a shout, calling Tybalt and dragging him over the edge too. Benvolio whimpered at the sensation – his body could not be aroused again, and it was painful. It was alright. 

Well, as alright as it could be when you have two grown men flopping on top of you in their afterglow. They eventually moved around, and settled at his sides without a word. Benvolio did not need words – not when Tybalt offered him a smile, and a kiss on his shoulder, his arm protectively set on his stomach. Words were not needed either when Mercutio had this expression that said that he was happy beyond measure, his fingers gently tracing Benvolio's jawline. He loved them both, unconditionally, and he hoped that in time, they would truly believe it too. 

“Before I forget... Neither of you are allowed to crash my cousin's party.”  
Benvolio snorted. Not just at the absurdity of the line, but also because Tybalt's voice was muffled by his shoulder, and he just looked too much like a sated cat to be threatening. But he still made Mercutio promise to behave. They'd crash it after all, but with a bit of luck, Tybalt would not mind too much.


End file.
